A Dream Within a Dream
by Belles Couleurs
Summary: The story of Gemma Doyle continues. But will her longing for Kartik and Simon throw off her focus? My version of the third book.
1. Prologue

_a/a: Of course I must begin with stating that I don't own_ A Great and Terrible Beauty _or_ Rebel Angels

_ This story is my interpretation of the third book. It is more about the romance that surrounds Gemma, but it does follow the same outline of the first two books concerning the Realms and all._

_ I hope you enjoy!_

Simon Middleton is coming to the Spring ball at Spence. Every girl is talking about it, whispering it up and down the hallways. The Great Simon Middleton, one of England's most eligible bachelors. He is handsome, charming, a gentleman, and best of all, filthy rich. He would be the dream husband for any of them.

Or at least that's what I think they're saying.

They all know of my and Simon's affair last Christmas – how he had offered me his family's brooch; how he had danced with me at the Worthington's Christmas ball; how he had walked with me in the park, and how I had turned him down.

Whenever I come near, their whispers cease and they find something to occupy their attention; as if the carpet stain is more entertaining than frivolous gossip. I smile charmingly at them, ask after their families, talk of the weather. But there is always that barrier between us. They, who want nothing more than for me to leave them, allowing the continuation of discussing luscious scandals about myself; and me, who wants nothing more than to be accepted, yet alone, and out of their disgraceful conversation.

But women never got what they want.

We must be proper, never express our feelings. Always smile and be gracious, or we will be outcast, shameful figures against society. I do not want to be proper, I want my own life, back in India. But, Mrs. Worthington's reputation always hangs over my head. I do not want to be gossiped about and teased and loathed. I want to be loved, appreciated, a mystery to men. But I am Gemma Doyle, a mystery to herself.

What did Simon Middleton ever see in me? I'm plain looking, not very appealing compared to Pippa or Felicity. Not very interesting, I'm quite dull. Not very proper either, I can't dance; I'm not witty; not charming.

And Simon Middleton is all of these.

And, yet, I denied him.

Maybe I am worthy of gossip. I am stupid. I am naïve. I am everything England wants not.

Maybe I should just join the gypsies as Kartik once did.

_Kartik._

His name brings a wave of cinnamon and burning fire.

_Kartik._

I haven't seen him since Christmas. After he defied the Rakshana, he had no need to follow me. He had no orders to attend to. I was just a thorn in his side, a mess he had to clean. And yet, as I left him those months ago, he seemed to long for me, as I have longed for him these passing days. I admit, I miss him stalking me, those cryptic messages, those close encounters. And dare I acknowledge it; I miss his firm lips against mine. Many nights I dream of him, next to me in Spence. But I always wake shaking and sweating, with Ann snoring in the bed next to mine.

But I always seem to wake shaking and sweating.

I have such horrible nightmares. I see Pippa, sharp-toothed, black eyed, power hungry – staring at me, craving my flesh between her teeth.

I fear returning to the Realms. I fear seeing Pippa, fearing what she has become.

Felicity is anxious, though. She's always begging me. Poor Ann just wants to be loved; so she always follows suit.

I just want my mother. I don't even care if she was never honest with me, Father, or even herself. She was my mother, and I loved her for it. I just wish I could see her again, in the Realms. But she has passed, as it should be.

Grandmama wrote me last month, updating me on Father, Tom, and England gossip. It would be nice to know she's doing this for me, but she is writing me because it is proper, and she above all does not want to be shunned. She would disown me at the slightest hint of scandal. I'm surprised she hasn't ignored me since the Simon incident. In the letter, she spoke of him often; expressing how he frequently invites Tom to his club and how he inquires after my health. She believes there is still hope.

But there isn't any.

Simon will come to the Spring ball, as will Tom and other family connections. He will come to make an appearance, to find a suitable wife that will not scare his image. He might even be coming for Felicity. I do not know.

Simon Middleton is lost to me.

But then, why do I think of him so often, so endearing and without integrity?

Kartik is in my dreams and Simon is in my thoughts.

What a mess I have made.

_a/a: Please review!_


	2. Chapter 1

_a/a: Again, I must point out I don't own_ A Great and Terrible Beauty

_So, this is the first chapter. I really hope you enjoy!_

"Mademoiselle? Mademoiselle."

I moaned in discomfort. Someone was poking me, and it was becoming highly agitating. Why can't I just rest in peace?

"Gemma Doyle!"

My body snaps to attention so fast I nearly fall off the desk. All the girls around me snicker in response. Only Ann looks at me in concern.

"Oui, Mademoiselle?

"I swear, Mademoiselle Doyle. Your snoring would have disturbed a fainted drunkard. What do you do in the evenings?"

That had to be a rhetorical question. I wouldn't answer. I couldn't tell her that I awoke every night screaming – either from dismay or terror.

"I'm sorry. I – "

"En français, s'il vous plait."

How did you say 'I'm so very sorry I can't sleep at night because monsters and villains haunt my nightmares.'?

It took me a minute to form 'sorry' in my head; my brain had numbed over the past few months.

"Désolé, Mademoiselle. Je suis fatigué."

This sends a new wave of giggles across the room.

"Well, Mademoiselle Doyle. I believe that is very obvious. Tell us, quelle est la date?"

My insides sink. I have no idea what the date is. Days and nights, weeks and months, have melted together.

I hang my head in defeat. "Je ne sais pas."

"Mademoiselle Temple, quelle est la date?"

Cecily smirks in triumph. "Mardi le vingt et un avril."

My color blanches and my stomach flips. It can't be April 21. That means the Spring ball is in three days. It mustn't be time yet. There must be a misunderstanding.

"Corriger. Gemma, take note of Cecily's talent and attention. Please learn from it."

Even my nod is grave and silent. My eyes search for Ann's. Hers seem wary and scared, asking an unquestioned concern. She never wakes from my screams. My eyes then wonder to Felicity's. Her puzzlement is less fierce and more understanding. She knows why I paled and silenced. I have yet to obtain a dress for the ball, and Simon will be there. Felicity Worthington always finds my weaknesses and prays upon them. I vaguely remember her discussing Simon's arrival for the past week. How stupid of me to let it pass. How could I have forgotten about the ball?

Mademoiselle Lefarge dismisses us after another hour of torture. French is such a stress for me. I could appreciate the beauty of the language if I knew what she was saying half the time.

Felicity's hand slides into mine as she leads me down the front steps and off to the side of Spence. Ann tags behind, not wanting to be left out.

"Gemma, what is the matter with you?" Ann pants behind us.

I blush in embarrassment. I didn't want to admit my sudden awareness of the ball. Balls are supposed to be the first thing in a woman's mind. What she will wear, who she will dance with; it's a shame to admit I know nothing of these.

But, of course, Felicity must come to the rescue.

"She forgot about the ball, Ann."

In spite of myself, I redden.

"Well, that's not so bad." Poor naïve Ann. "But why are you frantic?"

"She doesn't have a dress that is flattering. She wants to impress Simon."

I cursed Felicity in my thoughts. Why can't I tell her to shut up? My own shame grasps my vocal cords.

"Why does she want to impress Simon? I thought she didn't like him?"

Can't you stop asking questions, Ann!

"Of course she likes him. She's just afraid."

They're discussing me as if I'm not even here, just a rag doll being pulled by Felicity.

And what makes her think I still like Simon? I have yet to speak of him for the past months. Come to think of it, I have barely spoken since we've returned to Spence. My soul is exhausted and my brain a mess.

Ann stares at me bewildered.

"You're afraid? You?"

My glare could burn brick to ashes. Can Ann never let things go?

"You're ridiculous, Ann. Of course I don't like him."

Felicity pats my hand. "Of course, dear. Keep telling yourself that."

Ann giggles but stops as my nose flares.

"Felicity! You have – where are you taking me?"

I hadn't noticed, but we were lost in the woods. I did not recognize this section. However, Felicity kept trudging onward, certain of our destination.

"Oh, you'll see."

"It better not be the cave," I declare with clenched teeth.

"Of course not." She answers so innocently I almost believe her.

We emerge into a vast meadow with a mediocre pond. Felicity promptly turns to me and snaps at Ann, "Close your eyes." Ann swiftly obeys. Before I can respond, Felicity tears at my dress and flings it over my head. Her fingers quickly undo my corset and discard it at the base of a tree. Ann giggles in excitement as my protests fly; she has no idea what's happening. Felicity then throws my only remaining cover into the wind and pushes me into the pond.

I am naked, in broad daylight, in the middle of the woods, laying head first in a cold pond. Curse that Felicity into Hell.

I quickly swim deeper into the middle of the pond. When I'm sure my bareness is hidden, I spit my insults at Felicity. "What do you think you are doing?"

Felicity smiles slyly. "Gemma, Gemma, Gemma. You have been so dull since we've returned from Christmas holidays. You must be refreshed and rejuvenated. Take a quick swim alone in the pond. We'll return for you shortly. To make sure you don't get out, we'll be taking your clothes with us. After dinner, we will find you a fitting dress for Friday. Come now, Ann, my work is done."

Ann's hands fly from her eyes. She busts out with laughter unfitting for a lady as she takes in the site; me, wet as a homeless dog, in the middle of a pond. Felicity takes her hand and they skip into the dark woods.

I glare as they go, hoping this is a cruel joke. But they do not return. My teeth start to chatter. I begin to swim, trying to keep warm, not because Felicity instructed me to do so.

But Felicity is right.

As I swim, a calm resides over me. I am free in the water. I am away from properness, from the realms. I am myself. I float on my back and push slightly with my arms. My naked body soaks up the beating sun. I do feel whole again.

I make a mental note to thank Felicity, in the very far future.

I begin to wish they'd never come back, that I'll lay here for ever, bathing in glory.

Suddenly there is a snap in the woods. Someone has stepped on a stick.

I jerk and topple into the water. I swim up, only my head visible above the water. "Felicity? Ann?"

There is no answer.

"Felicity? Ann?"

I begin to panic. It could be a number of dangerous things out in the woods. The Rakshana have not forgotten me, neither has Miss McCleethy. Worse, it could be Mrs. Nightwing searching for me.

I swear I am going to murder Felicity when she returns!

What can I do? Should I get out and run for Spence in hope I'll dash into Felicity? Or should I wait and discover who it is?

Another twig snaps.

I decide to run.

My hands flail and my legs kick as I hurry to shore. I hit land and begin to scamper. I don't even know what direction we came from.

Another sound.

I pick a spot that is far from it and dart for it. I curse my legs for slowness. Dodging trees and disguised surprises, I turn behind to see if I'm being followed. There is no one there. Maybe I imagined the whole scenario?

_BAM_

I fall to the ground with a reverberating thud. I had run into a person.

Dazed and confused, I try to make out the figure hovering over me.

_Kartik_.

_a/a: Please, oh please review! Merci!_


	3. Chapter 2

_a/n: I'm in a writing frenzy today._

_Enjoy!_

His tall frame comes into focus. Kartik's face is bewildered and surprised, his eyes bulging and his mouth open.

What is he staring at? It's not as if he ran into me.

But then it dawns on me.

Felicity still has my clothes.

I am exposed, bare, naked in front of Kartik.

I'm muttering, trying to move, trying to hide, but I can't move. My mind is jumbled and all I can think is Kartik sees me naked.

Kartik regains his senses and quickly turns around ashamed. He shrugs off his jacket, then his shirt, and hands it to me behind him. I throw on his top; it reaches my knees. At least I am somewhat covered.

We stand in silence; his back still turned to me. An awkward cough escapes his throat.

My cheeks burn red.

Why, oh why, oh why had it had to be Kartik!

"I'm sorry." His voice is barely audible. Why must he be embarrassed?

I'm ashamed into silence.

He slowly turns and glances at my face. We stare at each other in uncomfortable quiet.

"Kartik –"

"Gemma –"

I purse my lips in frustration. He can speak; clarify why he his here. I am a lady, and a lady doesn't have to explain herself or her actions.

He still remains silent.

I give a heavy sigh. "Why are you here, Kartik?" My tone expresses annoyance.

"You were naked."

I scoff. "I'm glad to see your sight is still well." I try to sound unbothered, as if the whole circumstance was an everyday activity.

He doesn't let it go. "You – a lady-in-training – were naked. I – uh…"

"Can't you let it go, Kartik?" Of course he can't; he's a male. He continues to stare and gape. I begin to feel his shirt is transparent.

I bite my lip and focus on a weed growing in the dirt. The silence stretches, and my cheeks burn with each passing second.

His hands suddenly cup my face. "Don't be ashamed, Gemma."

I pale and my eyes widen. I swear I will die from sudden swings in emotions. But how dare Kartik speak to me like that, dare to touch me! Four months and no word!

I take a step backwards. His body becomes rigid, and his hands remain frozen, grasping the atmosphere. "Gemma –"

"Why have you come?"

"I came to see you."

Well, he certainly did see me.

"What for?"

"I was worried. The Rakshana have disappeared."

I shake my head in response. Kartik studies my face, and my gaze drifts. I take in his disorderly appearance. His hair is long and unruly. Tufts of black fluff spot his chin; his side burns touch halfway to his jaw. His dark eyes reflect such depth and passion. His bare chest shows his strength and Indian heritage. A taunting line of hair snakes from his bellybutton to a world unknown to me. My gaze quickly flutters upward, embarrassed for thinking such thoughts. My eyes land on his lips – his full, delicious lips. How I have longed for them against mine.

I swiftly turn my head. I mustn't think those things. Searching for a question, any question, I find my escape. "How long have you been here at Spence?"

"Two months."

There goes my mood swings.

"Two months?"

Kartik shies backwards. "Maybe…"

"Why didn't you contact me?"

This remark puzzles him. His eyes search mine and bore into my soul. A sly smile curves his lips. "You missed me." It isn't a question; it is a statement.

I lift my chin in defiance. "I did not."

A slight chuckle reverberates around us. He takes a step forward. "Yes, you did. Your eyes speak of it."

I turn my back on him. "Then you shouldn't see them."

Another snigger escapes. He has such a beautiful laugh. I take a step in advance, away from him, but his arms wrap around me, pulling me to him.

I writhe and protest, but I can't help giggling. "Kartik, please! What if someone sees?"

"What if?"

I stop moving and turn to face him. His perfect lips are inches from mine. All I have to do is lean.

But I mustn't. I must be a lady. I turn to leave, but he spins me back. "Gem –" There was no stopping it, my lips meet his midsentence. His mouth is already open, and his tongue, taunting mine.

Why must he be so intoxicating? I take a step back, hoping this will end and begging it to never stop. His feet follow mine, and soon I'm pushed against a tree.

His hands grope my body. I realize I'm still only in his oversized shirt. This piece of clothing is easily pliable. His hands fly downward. He clenches the bottom of his shirt in his fist and jerks it up. I am exposed from stomach down.

His fingers slide toward my womanhood.

"Kartik."

His lips wet my neck.

"Kartik, this is wrong."

And so right. My body's aching for his fingers, begging for his speed to increase. He hesitates, and I take my chance.

I push him off of me. He stumbles away. My body is shaking and trembling, alarmingly aching for more. I lust for his body to return to mine.

I grab my heart and stagger forward. Did that just happen?

His eyes burn with fiery passion.

"Gemma, I'm sorry."

My temper flares. Sorry? Of course he's sorry! He doesn't want me, really. He's sorry for the inconvenience. I glare at him unfalteringly. "Of course. Good day to you, Mr. Kartik." I storm into the woods. He catches me, keeping pace so easily.

"Gemma, don't be angry." He seems so amused. He knows I enjoyed it, dirty git. "You know that was wrong. What if your friends had shown up? I'm guessing it was them who stole your clothes."

Why did he have to be so observant? "Kartik, please."

He grabs my hand. "Please what?"

I want to lunge at him, pin him to the ground.

But I mustn't. I shouldn't.

He traces comforting circles in my palm. His other hand slides to my face and brushes my hair from my eyes.

I mustn't. I shouldn't.

His hand leaves mine and runs up and down my arm. I receive numerous shivers.

I mustn't. I shouldn't.

He leans in and grazes his lips across my forehead, my nose, my jaw line, muttering something barely audible.

I mustn't. I shouldn't.

But I do. I always do.

My fingers fly to his hair and clench it in response. His fingers move to unbutton his charitable clothing. The first buttons are undone within seconds. His hands cup my breast and begin to rub continuous circles. My legs give way and I buckle. He follows me down as if nothing occurred.

He is on top of me, pinning me to the ground. My breast raw as his circles become fiercer. His kisses too increase in severity. He wants this, even more than more. This brings a wave of satisfaction over me. His knees push mine apart, and his fingers sly there once again. Why must he always go there?

I roll over with a moan and cautiously stand. I curse myself for my weakness and his gift. It seems he will always be able to drive me insane.

"Kartik."

"I willl stop, Gemma." He pasuses. "This is not why I sought you out."

I am wrong. He didn't long for my body as I longed for his. I hate myself.

"What." I do not hide my dissatisfaction.

"Promise me you won't go out in the woods alone anymore."

This remark is unexpected. "What can be in the woods?"

"Please, Gemma."

I bite my lip; I want to bite his. "Fine."

I stand and turn to go before temptation wins again.

He grabs my arm and turns me around. "I'm with the gypsies again, if you ever need me. Goodbye, Gemma Doyle." His kisses my cheek and disappears behind the trees.

_a/n: Please review! Thanks!_


	4. Chapter 3

_a/n: Bonjour! Sorry it has taken me ages to post. Classes have been so busy. But I hope you enjoy! I'll put up a new one soon. I promise!_

_Btw... big thank you's to my first reviewers! This is for you all!_

Did that just happen? I shake my head to clear the perplexing and obscured visions.

No.

Yes.

Never.

You wanted.

Did not.

You lusted.

No.

_Lust-ed_.

I smack my head in frustration. Kartik had lunged at me; he tackled me. It was as if I was a suction pulling him to me. I couldn't have stopped him.

Yes I could have.

I just hadn't wanted to prevent it – his perfect, full lips against mine; his big, comforting hands on me.

On me.

On _me_.

I stop walking through the forest and sink into the shadows. I am tainted, ruined before my season has even started.

A burning hate boils in my veins. I deplore him, hate him with every element of life. He didn't even hesitate, ask permission. He just took it, stole it from me.

Oh, yeah. That's a gentleman.

Simon wouldn't have done that.

Simon.

What would he think? His prized Gemma now a filthy whore, touched by an Indian. He would ignore me, of course – shun me from all parties and gatherings. If asked of my acquaintance, he would answer 'only in passing'. How low have I gone?

Warm blood floods my mouth. I have bitten a whole in my lip out of pure aggravation. What has happened to me? Kartik may be an Indian, but he is human. They deserve to bleed – I mean, live. They have every right I do; every right to live and love and… bleed. Indians are individuals, too. Aren't they?

I try to stand to clear my thinking. Of course they're human; Father would be ashamed. But, oh, the taste of blood is overwhelming. All I can think of is blood. Kartik – kissing – groping – _blood_ – Simon – innocence – _blood_ – Indians – life – _blood_. What is wrong with me?

I attempt to stop the bleeding, but it only worsens. My lip is releasing so much red liquid I begin to fear I will die from it. Someone has to help me! The forest blurs past me. I'm in a haze – chanting, calling, begging for any assistance. Can no one hear me?

Suddenly I'm picked up and thrown back against a tree. My exposed, sensitive skin cracks as it scrapes against the bark; I'm slowly oozing blood all over. The liquid is so potent in my mouth; it's suffocating all my senses.

_Oh, yessss. Drink it up. Taste delicious, no? Soon you'll be one of us._

My heart comes to a frightening halt as my veins ice over. I know that voice, recognize it from my hideous nightmares. It is from the Realms; one of Circe's demons. I jerk my head in swift turns, hoping to catch a glimpse of my enemy. But, oh, the blood, it taste so good. Focus on the blood, Gemma. Drink it up, poppet.

_Soon._

I'm unexpectedly snapped back to the world. My lip is swollen, bruised from a cut or worn out by Kartik. I do not know.

Kartik's indecent behavior seems a distant memory to me. What was that evil doing here at Spence? I thought I secured the Runes for those who would share. Circe wouldn't share.

But she would share with them. That wicked, black world - the Winterlands.

What have I done?

_a/n: I know that was really short. I'm really sorry. It'll get better! Promise! (Please review! Thank you! lol.)_


	5. Chapter 4

_a/n: Okay... well... this one's longer than last time. lol. Enjoy!_

I have to find Felicity.

This can't be happening. I did not set up the Runes perfect use by Circe. There has to be a mistake.

But the horror washes over me without error.

The Winterlands.

Dear God. What have I done!

I'm lost in the woods, in an oversized shirt belonging to an Indian male, my hair is wetter than the pond itself, and a deadly villain is surrounding my soul.

Oh, yeah. This whole excursion was the greatest idea, Fee. I'm so relaxed now.

I'm going to murder her, bring her back to life, and murder her again. The word hate doesn't even describe it.

I suddenly realize I'm not making any progress through the bewildering woods – something tells me I've passed that rock a couple of times.

I throw my body on the cold, hard grass. The April rains have left the floor damp and a rich green, causing Kartik's black shirt to clutch my skin.

Think, Gemma. Think. Is there a way of bending the promise of the Runes? I intended for them to be shared by everyone. But I never stopped to think everyone integrated Circe or the dreadful Winterlands.

Then again, Circe herself cannot harness the magic. Who is completing her behest?

I immediately think of the Rakshana. They wouldn't stoop to her level, would they? They tried to shield my mom from her, protect her – that was Kartik's brother's job. He even died trying to defend my mom from Circe's devils. And wasn't that Kartik's post as well? To guard me?

No. Kartik's job was to watch me. I, Gemma Doyle, am a young, impertinent, awful little girl who keeps the power from the Rakshana. He was my babysitter, not my guardian.

Then why is he back? The Rakshana have abandoned him; he has no reason to be here. Unless… he came to protect me based own his own sincerity.

An embarrassing heat rises to my cheeks and burns my neck. A not-entirely-unwelcome smile slithers across my crimson expression. I roll over and bury my face deep into the drenched grass. Giggles erupt from my lungs, and I'm suddenly thinking thoughts of yesteryear.

Kartik likes me.

He truly wants me.

The sunlight adorns my hair with a golden halo. Kartik fancies me, and I am a seraph because of it. I am suddenly, irrevocably exultant. Our first embrace outside the gypsy tents is brazen in my mind – how swift and brilliant it was.

Kartik – my Indian fancy.

But, in that, lies the flaw. My brisk happiness just as swiftly abates. Kartik is an Indian; and I, an English lady. No matter how much we acknowledge our wants and desires, they will never be ours. Our relationship will never be more than that of an acquaintance.

Grief stricken and angry, I lay face down in the green. The world hates me, and I hate it most deploringly back.

"Oh no! Do you think she's dead?"

My body tenses in automatic response; however, the voice is not of a villain, but Ann's desperate pity.

"Of course not, Ann. She's just being difficult."

I growl at the grass – that voice is that of a villain.

"Gemma, get up."

I decide if I don't move, the chances are they won't notice me.

"Gemma, I told you to get up."

Of course I forgot – Felicity isn't dull.

"Are you sure it's Gemma? Where did she get that shirt?"

And yet, Ann is. Funny how we all came together.

"Gemma. I am going to kick you if you don't move."

Motionless as a statue.

"One."

Fixed as a pillar.

"Two."

Quick as a hare.

"Don't you dare, Fee!" I barely roll out of the path of her sturdy kick.

"So nice of you to join us, Gemma dear. How was your relaxing swim?"

The cold, icy water.

The abrupt bump.

The touch of an Indian.

The taste of blood.

"Wonderful, darling. I should really thank you, truly."

The bitter sarcasm hangs in the air as an afterthought.

"That's great, Gemma. I'm glad you feel better." How come Ann can never catch on?

Felicity rolls her eyes in discontent.

"You are so naïve, Ann. Please just be quiet."

Ann opens her mouth, in what I thought to be protest, but only to gulp some clean air, hoping that it will keep her comfort under Felicity's obvious, callous aura.

"What happened, Gemma? Why did you run from the water? Whose shirt is that?"

Her tone reads unrelenting curiosity, not sympathy or care.

"Umm…" I bite my lip. "I found it." That's a safe answer.

Felicity raises an eyebrow. Well… maybe not so secure of a reply.

I quickly glance at Ann's bowed head. Felicity follows my gaze and understands. Ann cannot recognize a secret, even if it wears a nametag and introduces itself publicly.

"Understood." Felicity gives a stealthy and rough nod. "Now, Gemma. Into your dry clothes, I think?" It's really not a question, but a cover-up to hide our sudden turn in conversation.

"Of course, of course." I quickly catch on to the scheme.

"Ann?" Felicity holds out her arms for my clothes.

"Oh." That's all Ann can say. She blushes an unflattering red and twists her hands in defeat.

"Oh?" Felicity feels no pity.

"I left them in your room."

I experience sympathy for Ann, I really do. But now my heart was as prejudiced as Fee's. "What? Excuse me, Ann?"

"No. You heard her right, Gemma – Ann can't even remember your clothing. Ann, how will you ever be a successful nanny when you can't even remember the little things? Didn't your mother always tell you the little things matter the most? Hmm?"

My biased attitude slowly fades as tears form in the corners of Ann's eyes. Felicity has scraped a raw cut with extreme ferocity. "Fee –"

"Come on, Gemma. We have to sneak you back into Spence." Felicity quickly turns on her heel and marches back into the unknown. I hesitate and glance up at Ann as if begging for permission. Ann only hides her face in disappointment and hatred of herself. Can Fee ever see pass herself?

We enter into a scene of soldiers in battle. Felicity, the captain, is boldly marching forward, face straight and head high. I quickly follow suit, lost and confused. And Ann, bringing up the rear as always, slowly drags farther and farther behind in recognizable defeat.

Spence gradually comes into view. How are we going to pull this off?

Felicity halts and taps her chin in thought. "Ann. Go inside and distract anyone in the hallway. If you run into anybody on the steps tell them Mrs. Nightwing wants to see them immediately. Tell them it's about the ball."

Ann silently obeys and trudges off towards Spence.

"Now, Gemma. Just stay close to me."

Felicity takes a hesitant step and continues brashly forward. Quickly and quietly, I become her attached shadow. Please, oh please, let no one be outside. We turn the corner and the meadow before the school is oddly empty. Maybe the world does love me.

"Gemma Doyle."

Nevermind, I lied.

Cecily Temple and her immutable, snobbish servants step out of the shadows. Every muscle in my weak body tenses.

A snooty chuckle escapes forward. "Why, Gemma. I love that dress. It's so… scandalous, may I say. You'll certainly win Simon back. That's if, of course, he doesn't assume you a man."

An echo of giggles spreads around her.

Felicity boldly steps between the devil and me. "Why, Cecily, you certainly know. I only heard last week that you were introduced to Henry Edwards, and he handed you his cloak and asked you to quickly start dusting the drapes."

Cecily's face blanches. "How's your mother, Felicity? Been sleeping around in France again?"

Felicity tauntingly sweeps her hair behind her. "Now, Cecily, how would you know this?

Been with the gypsy whores again?"

Cecily Temple takes an audacious step forward, her face barely inches from Felicity's. "Don't push me, Worthington. Everyone knows of your mother's affair. I'll make you wish you never brought up Henry or the gypsies."

So it was true – Cecily did indeed discover lust in the meager gypsies. By admitting it, she has just dug her own grave. Then again, Cecily is well taught in all evils.

Felicity gives a cunning, inexorable smile; she knows pitiless trickery as well.

"See you at dinner, Temple."

Felicity boldly pushes past as I follow, hiding behind her my audacious giggles.

_a/n: Please review - it's my fuel in writing! Thank you!_


	6. Chapter 5

_a/n: I am so very sorry it has taken me forever! But I am back. lol. I hope this chapter is well for now. I will post again tomorrow (cross your fingers! lol.)!!_

After what seems hours of aching shrewdness, Felicity and I finally reach her room. Maybe Ann has actually completed a task without failure. Well done, Ann. Well done.

Two brilliant dresses lie on top of Felicity's minute bed. "Oh my goodness, Fee! These are absolutely stunning!"

Felicity shrugs casually. "They were in fashion last spring. I think you have the right tone to wear them without shame."

Of course. That's why Fee's letting me borrow them; they're of no more use to her.

"Thanks, Fee," I bitterly reply.

The beautiful in-vogue creature smiles delightedly. "But, of course. Anything for you, Gemma." She bats her eyelashes tauntingly; as if I'm a rich, handsome boy she's trying to interest.

"Felicity… I am not taking you back to the Realms. Not now, at least."

She sticks her bottom lip out in a false sulk. "But, but, Gemma, dearest, I'm letting you _wear_ one of _my_ favorite gowns. Is that not enough?"

I glance over at her beseeching expression. "Well," I give a punctual sigh. "First, I must pick a dress for the spring ball. And it just _cannot_ be, oh, I don't know, some haphazard costume from last year's mode. It must be real, and… and enticing… and –"

"Screaming 'Simon Middleton! Take me!'"

Brash giggles escape us. "No!" I playfully throw a pillow at Fee's chuckling face.

"Oh, yes! Admit it, Gemma. You want him."

My face burns scarlet. "Do not!"

"Do to."

"Fee!" The heat radiating from my face could burn Spence to the ground.

"I knew it!" She sniggers more as I collapse onto her bouncy bed.

My giggles slowly subside; my top lip gnawing my bottom; my hands wringing Kartik's shirt forcefully. "Do you think he will notice?" My shy question barely reaches my own eager ears.

There's a long pause as Felicity breathes in. "Of course he will. He would be daft not to."

I roll onto my side to study Felicity's gaze; her eyes speak her proper feelings. You know, she's not so evil when she chooses not to be.

"That's if, of course, he does not notice me."

Felicity will always be Felicity.

I jokingly strike her again. Rolling forward, I glance at the two gowns she pulled from her wardrobe. "Sultry blue?" – a daring, risqué pose – "Or kind, caring green?" – loving, I'll-be-there-for-you pose.

"Kind, caring green most definitely. Sultry blue? Not at Spence. Plus, the green brings your eyes out more."

"Hmm. Will I not blend in with… well…"

"Ann?" Felicity and manners have never quite met before. "No. Gemma – you will be irresistible to Simon in this dress."

I smile charmingly, curtsy to the invisible, handsome man, and lift my hand in response. "Oh, but of course, Simon. We can dance every dance. And a walk in the moonlight? Would I say no? Oh, and yes, a thousand times yes…" I pause for dramatic effect, "…no Felicity."

Felicity's vibrant smile slightly fades. "And would this stunning Felicity notice? I think not. She will be to busy fighting off her own suitors while poor Gemma duels with one."

I stick my tongue out at her. But, honestly, I don't care. For once, Felicity and I are young woman, each entering their own season, together and happy in their ignorant youth.

"Are you to say, Gemma, you have found the perfect gown?" She slowly drawls her question to an end.

"I do believe so," I promptly reply, thinking this is yet another annoying, yet fun, game between us.

"Then, what of, I don't know, payment? Maybe a reward for my sincere kindness?"

Felicity always finds ways to ruin every moment.

"Fee. No more Rea – "

My thoughts shatter as my mind tries to recollect the past. The Realms. The forest. Circe's demon. Blood. Felicity's bedroom swirls in and out of focus.

"Gemma? Are you okay? You look pretty pale."

Pale? Yes, I am pale. Naturally pale. Not like Pippa, though. Not beautiful Pippa pale. Ugly pale. Lost of blood pale.

Blood.

_You remember the taste, do you not?_

My legs give way as I clutch my heart. That voice! That horrid voice! How is it here? Where is it coming from?

It must be in the hall. I race to the door and bar myself against it. It will not enter here. Never here. Here, I am with unaware, valiant Simon. It will not taint my Simon.

A sly snicker envelopes my shaking senses.

_Block me out? Noooo. I'm a _part _of you, dearest. We are one in the same._

No. Not the hall then. It's breathing my air. Under the bed. Yes, it's under the bed. I throw myself on all fours, digging beneath Felicity's divan, begging for anything to end this devilish cantor.

"Gemma? Gemma! What are you doing!"

_You want it again. _

No I don't. Want what? I know nothing of this desire. I want Simon. Yes, yes Simon. Pure, innocent Simon. Go away from him. I don't want you.

_Yes you do. _

Stop it!

I throw my hands over my ears and race backwards from the bed, slamming into the wall and sending pictures falling in broken dismay. My eyes search pleadingly into the vacant air.

_Oh, where am I? I think you know._

No I don't! Leave me alone! Stop it! Please, stop it!

_Tasssste it._

"STOP IT!!!"

My senses crumple as my muscles fade. I am no longer a frightened child in a corner, but a dribble of sobbing fright.

"Ge – Gemma?" Felicity stands in the opposite corner; a look of horror adorns her face.

My mind collapses with my body. What is wrong with me? What does Circe's pet mean? It's a part of me?

It can't be.

It can't be me.

_a/n: I promise more. Much much more. Thanks guys!_


	7. Chapter 6

_a/n: Goodness, I know it's been ages. You've prob wondering why I've come back. Honestly, I thought about this and came and read some reviews. Because of them, I'm trying to push on. I hope you like. It's really short, but I'm trying. _:)

"I don't know. I… she just…"

Aw, stop talking. The pain, oh, my head hurts so bad.

"Stress."

Please just stop. Leave me alone. I try to swat at them, move my arms, but I can't. I try to shuffle and can't even role over.

"What?"

What is wrong with me? I attempt to open my eyes, and even my eyelids' weight is too much to bare.

"You girls are foolish, putting so much stress on yourselves for the upcoming event. It's just a dance, for goodness sake. You all haven't even been introduced to the Queen yet, and already we have fretting and nerves dissolving into loose ends."

Dance? Alright, think, Gemma. A dance. What dance? The spring one, of course. Okay, where? Spence. Oh, yeah - Felicity's gowns.

Oh, my god.

That demon. That monster.

"Ohhhh." My groan is pitiful.

"Gemma! Gemma, are you okay?"

"Ms. Worthington, please do not shout so loud. She is quite near to your mouth, you know. Ms. Doyle? Ms. Doyle? Wake up, child. Stop making such a fuss."

"Fee?"

"Gemma, what happened?" Felicity's firm hand strangles my tired, limp one.

"Ms. Worthington, will you leave her be. Ms. Doyle, open your eyes."

Slowly, with much concentration and effort, they slide open. Mrs. Worthington's towering figure lingers over me, her lips in a pursed, worried line.

"Ms. Worthington has already told me of your collapse. You are in her room, I believe on her spare bed. Are you ill, child? What brought about this disaster?"

A monster, Mrs. Nightingale, a horrible, dreadful one. Nothing you should be worried about.

I open my mouth to respond, but no words issue forth. What exactly did happen? I wet my lips again, and still no noise. It is too dry, too parched. Even after the extra moisture, my lips are cracking and disintegrating.

"A glass of water if you would, Ms. Worthington." Felicity flees from my side. I watch in absent curiosity. I don't believe I've ever seen her move that quickly over someone else. I wonder what's bothering her? If she knows. I can't go back in the Realms. Oh, definitely not now. That demon, that evil sprite that haunts my waking nightmares, that –

"Ms. Doyle, calm down! Relax, take a deep breath. We'll sort this out."

My eyes dart to Ms. Nightingale's, so calm, absolutely serene, just like that pond earlier today. My life was beautiful then. In those mere moments, I was free.

I open my mouth again to talk, but all it is is a dismal croak.

Felicity thrusts the glass into my frail hands, and I quickly gulp it down. A few water droplets splash my outfit, wetting what was once Pippa's bed, as her silent tears so often did before. Fee's mouth turns up a bit at my unladylike behavior, but she speaks nothing of her thoughts.

When the container is empty, I try my questioning again. "What happened?

"I don't know, Gemma! You were fine; we were going through my dresses for the ball, you know. And then, suddenly, you just, I don't know. Started crying and moaning, digging under my bed. And then you just collapsed into a sobbing heap until you actually passed out. Ann came looking for us soon afterwards. I couldn't wake you up, and she went screaming for Mrs. Nightingale."

"I passed out? Did I say anything? Did you see anything?"

Mrs. Nightingale's eyes dart to mine. "See anything? Did you?"

I stutter for a second, gathering my thoughts. "Uh, n – no, Mrs. Nightingale."

Her lips become a line once again. What am I supposed to say?

"I mean yes. I thought…" Oh, think quickly, you dimwit! "I thought I saw a mouse."

Felicity raises her eyebrows as Mrs. Nightingale slightly tilts her head.

"A mouse, Ms. Doyle?"

I nod my head vigorously; perhaps too vigorously. The pain definitely worsens.

"I'm – I'm sorry, Mrs. Nightingale. I don't like mice. They're… umm… tiny?" I offer halfheartedly.

Felicity snickers, sensing my attempt to cover up.

Our headmistress turns her attention to her then, quickly sizing her demeanor.

"Did you see a mouse?"

"No, but I did here rustling noises. Perhaps that was them." Felicity, always catching up and marching forward.

"Hm, perhaps," she agrees. Again her gaze falls on me. After seconds of absolute quiet and holding of breath, she clasps her hands. "Well, then. I suppose we can't have tiny things running around if you're going to end up like this, Ms. Doyle. After I speak about the cleaning, I'll return with some hot tea. That should certainly calm you. It does work miracles." And without any additional words, she turns and leaves, an awkward sigh of relief echoes behind her.

Felicity jumps onto my bed, sending me bouncing in the waves of her deed. "Huh. That was interesting." She absently picks at a string digressing from the pattern of the comforter.

"Yeah, I guess." I sigh inwardly. Really, I have no idea what just happened.

"So…" she pressed, twisting her hair into long, beautiful designs.

"So…?"

"What really happened, Gemma? You have to tell me."

What would she think if I actually did? Um, yeah, Fee. There's this demon, and the pesky thing just won't leave me be. See, it has this tendency to follow me. Mind, I have only ran into twice before, barely two hours apart, but I'm guessing it's grown quite fond of me. I'll probably be running into quite often now.

The memory of blood floods my mouth as my stomach turns.

Oh, God. I hope I don't. Please, no.

"Tell me." Her voice is demanding.

"Oh, Fee. Not now, please. My head aches, and I don't feel well." My body is slapped by a flying pillow.

"Tell me now. Was it something about the Realms? Is Pippa okay?"

That's what all this is about. Her precious Pippa. She doesn't really care for my madness or health. All for her precious Pippa who might be a monster by now, for all we know. My jealousy kicks it into high gear. I'm the one that drags her into that place. I'm the one that supplies the magic. I'm the one that's here, the only one that's here besides Ann, and she still doesn't care.

I bite my tongue, but, still, my anger boils. "She's dead." I throw the covers off my body and start marching towards the door. There, I pause.

Felicity whimpers, "Dead? Really dead? Like, no more? Even in the Realms?"

Ghastly, I believe she's about to cry.

"Really dead." I slam the door behind me.

_a/n: So, I'm guessing Gemma's eight million mood swings are out of character a bit, but, I think all of this madness is pushing her over the edge; she's definitely got to burst sometime soon -- for good or bad. I don't know, so tell me what you think! If you want more, I'll defintely give you some. Thanks!_


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